


Biased

by wynnebat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, Getting Together, HP: EWE, Post-Canon, Professors, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: Escorting trouble-making students back to their dorms and breaking up midnight duels and secret lovers gets old after the first few times they do it; quidditch, on the other hand, never gets old. Nor does winning against Marcus. Katie blames it on the fact that she spent two years at Hogwarts trying to entice a bludger in his direction whenever she wasn’t chasing the quaffle. It gave her a lifelong satisfaction in winning games against Marcus Flint, even now when they’re a quidditch instructor and a Muggle Studies professor rather than Slytherin and Gryffindor chasers.
Relationships: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53
Collections: Rare Pair Shorts - Summer Wishlist Event 2020





	Biased

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lenapinewoods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenapinewoods/gifts).



> Harry Potter [rarepair_shorts](https://rarepair-shorts.dreamwidth.org/) Summer Wishlist Event gift for lenapinewoods. I hope you enjoy this fic!

“Should we stop them?” Katie asks, peering in the direction of the Hogwarts doors. It’s past curfew; Katie would know, having been one of the two professors on duty this evening.

Marcus pulls his broom up beside her, his robes whipping between them with the spring night’s wind. “Let’s wait to see what they do.”

Katie huffs. “You’re just worried they’re Slytherins.”

“They could be Gryffindors.”

“We should really let our house pride lie. I mean, we’re professors now,” Katie says, watching as the the small group of students crosses the Hogwarts lawn. The students take no notice of Katie or Marcus; their path is set in the direction of the lake, not in the skies of the quidditch pitch. It’s too dark to see much anyway. “We’re able to play a game of keeper versus chaser without trying to whack each other with our brooms.”

It’s become of ritual of sorts: whenever she and Marcus handle an evening prefect shift together, they head to the quidditch pitch to blow off some steam afterward. Escorting trouble-making students back to their dorms and breaking up midnight duels and secret lovers gets old after the first few times they do it; quidditch, on the other hand, never gets old. Nor does winning against Marcus. Katie blames it on the fact that she spent two years at Hogwarts trying to entice a bludger in his direction whenever she wasn’t chasing the quaffle. It gave her a lifelong satisfaction in winning games against Marcus Flint, even now when they’re a quidditch instructor and a Muggle Studies professor rather than Slytherin and Gryffindor chasers.

“You sent a hiccuping jinx my way last time,” Marcus complains with a laugh. “I wouldn’t call that evidence of maturity.”

Katie doesn’t feel particularly bothered by the accusation. “There’s no referee at midnight. It’s better than what we used to do to each other at school.”

“Being professors has taken some of the fun out of it,” Marcus says, thoughtfully. “It was fun to see the look on your face when Madam Hooch sided with us.”

“Or when Fred and George hit you with a bludger that time.” Katie lets out a drawn-out sigh of satisfaction for his benefit. Even years after the war, some of the happiness at the memory is darkened by Fred’s death. She keeps in touch with every member she played with on the Gryffindor quidditch team, but there’s one who’s lost to her forever. But she also remembers Fred and George’s laughter, their delight, the way they’d won that game.

It’s too dark to see Marcus’ face, but she hears his disgruntled huff. With some reluctance, he says, “They would have made good players for England, if things had worked out that way.”

“Yeah,” Katie agrees.

She shivers. It’s cold in the air and although Marcus blocks some of the wind from blowing her way with his tall, broad form, she’s ready to go back to the castle. They left their game at a tie, which they will spent the next few weeks needling each other about, and she’s looking forward to it already. There’s something surprisingly easy about talking to Marcus now that the weight of the war and their schooldays has largely faded. She still has scars, physical and mental alike, but they don’t stop her from playing quidditch. And when you can play quidditch, the world always looks brighter.

“Are they going _into_ the lake?”

Katie turns her attention away from Marcus and toward the group of students. Together, they drift their brooms in the direction of the group, making sure to keep a ways behind them. It’s too late in the evening to give kids detention. Filling out forms would dull the pleasure of throwing quaffles through Marcus’ defense. And maybe, just a little, the pleasure of Marcus’ company. When they both joined the Hogwarts staff at the beginning of the school year, Katie wouldn’t have expected to find companionship with her former quidditch rival.

Before Katie can resign herself to swooping down and throwing detention slips at the group, one of the students throws a ball into the air above the lake. It erupts in red and gold fireworks that form into a lion before blasting off into the sky. The students cheer, their words hard to make out, and head back inside. None of them look up at the two instructors in the skies.

“I bet it’s a test run for next week’s game,” Katie says, watching the very last of the fireworks flicker out into the darkness. She feels light with happiness, with secondhand joy at the current batch of Gryffindors’ house pride. They’re good kids, really.

When she looks in Marcus’ direction, his gaze is on her. With the nearly full moon’s reflection against the lake, she can see him more clearly than on the pitch. He’s smiling even as he says, “You’re right, we should stop them.”

“We could give them points instead. That’s some intricate charmwork.”

“If I’m forced to be unbiased, you are, too.”

“We’re always going to be a little biased,” Katie admits, knocking her broom against his. They’ve been drawn closer by the wind and by lack of attention, much closer than anyone would get during a game. There’s more resemblance to two friends on a nighttime broom ride. “Not in the classroom—or on the pitch as the instructor—but in spirit.”

“Too biased for this?” Marcus asks, leaning in. His words are quiet, lingering between them in the darkness, but sincere. He can go no further lest he fall off his broom, which means Katie has to meet him halfway.

She does, pressing a kiss against a mouth she’d once fantasized about punching, and there’s something delightful about it all. The way that the world keeps on spinning after so much hardship and loss, and that people and feelings can change in such unexpected ways. It’s a dark night and a bright world.

When they part, Katie says, “Just the right kind of biased,” and kisses him again to make sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm also on [Tumblr](https://wynnefic.tumblr.com/).


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